


Splinters of Colour

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol Withdrawal, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, M/M, Reference to abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 03:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13158495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Charles struggles to recover after the events of Days of Future Past. Hank helps.





	Splinters of Colour

Everything outside the window looked grey.

Logically, Charles knew that it wasn’t like that. Yes, it was chilly out since it was winter and the sky was overcast but the grass was as green as it ever had been and the trees were brown and even sprouting a few brave little leaves. But no matter how much he told himself that, everything _looked_ grey because he _felt_ grey.

It should probably have felt like an improvement. A few days ago, if he’d been trying to describe his life in colours, he’d have gone for jagged red and black as he’d struggled with the worst of giving up drink. Every bit of his body had ached, even the legs that had no feeling had seemed to throb as he’d sweated out seemingly every drop of alcohol that he’d ever absorbed. He’d vomited and cringed and curled up into ball, hating everything. Just remembering it made him feel nauseous. He was glad that was gone, glad it was over ...

And yet somehow, he didn’t feel better. He just didn’t feel physically ill any more. His brain was still mush though. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on a book, the words all blurred together and the substance of it wouldn’t come together. Conversations with Hank didn’t go anywhere because he lost track of what Hank was saying half-way through a sentence. And his telepathy was all over the place, going from picking up seemingly every thought in a range of miles to barely catching what Hank was thinking when he was in the same room. It was frustrating, even frightening – and he supposed it had to be bad for Hank too since he had very little control over what he was broadcasting.

He was trying not to think too much about Hank. Whenever he did, it made things awkward. It broke through the grey a little but only to replace it with cold, bitter shame. He had treated Hank terribly. Hank, the only person who had cared enough to stay with him, to help him and he’d dismissed him and used him and even tormented him. Because that’s what it had been, Charles knew that now. He’d pushed every boundary that Hank had had, manipulated and pressed and complained and Hank had gone along with everything because he’d felt Charles needed him. He’d let Charles insult him, belittle him and then comforted him when Charles had decided that was what he needed as opposed to a handy punching bag.

God, he disgusted himself. And worst of all, he didn’t know how to fix it. He’d apologised, more than once and Hank said it was all right but how did you really make something like that all right? How did you apologise for years of alternating abuse and affection?

He put his head in his hands at the weight of it all. When these thoughts returned, all he could think was how much he wanted to go back to the drink. How could he ever make anything right? He’d promised Logan that he’d try but how could you fix things when you’d broken them so badly? Only he had to try, he _had_ to, because he had promised and to go back after all of this would only make things worse for Hank and since what he really wanted was to make things better, well ... no more drink. No more serum. He was Charles Xavier and he was stronger than this and he was going to make everything fine in some way that he hadn’t quite worked out yet.

“Charles?”

Hank was back, something he should have known but his powers just weren’t up to it, apparently. He was staring at Charles with such open concern on his face and Charles forced a smile onto his face because he had to at least try and pretend that things weren’t so bad.

“Hello. Back already?”

“I’ve done the shopping,” Hank said. “It’s all in the kitchen already. Did you need anything Want anything?”

“No, I’m fine. It’s fine,” Charles lied because it wasn’t as though Hank could give him what he wanted anyway. It wasn’t fair to Hank to ask him for absolution and Hank certainly couldn’t undo everything that had happened. Charles just had to be strong and try to think of something else.

“I bought you something,” Hank said. He sounded shy and hopeful, as though whatever he had bought, he hoped Charles would be excited by it. Charles kept his smile fixed and tried to guide his face into a look of expectancy. It probably didn’t work that well – and even if it had, Hank knew him well enough by now. Hank had seen him fake emotion until he hadn’t needed to bother any longer. But he was going to keep trying.

Hank moved over to him, crouching down a little so they were facing each other. He held out his hand, uncurling his fist to reveal a flower.

Charles blinked at it. It was pink and petalled and he had a feeling it was a carnation, though he couldn’t remember off the top of his head. When he reached out and touched it, it was soft under his fingertips, almost silky.

“I know it’s stupid,” Hank said, stammering a little. “But I saw this guy selling them outside and I ... I thought maybe you’d like one ... ”

He looked embarrassed, his fear that Charles would think the gift ridiculous almost palpable. Beneath that was another fear, that Charles would see the gift for what it was and would reject it because now he was healthy again, he no longer wanted Hank, no longer wanted what they had shared and some of that had been good, it _had_ and Hank didn’t want it to end ...

“It’s beautiful, Hank. Thank you.”

Hank blinked rapidly behind his glasses, then smiled, a huge, happy smile. Charles looked at him and noticed just how bright Hank’s eyes were, what a nice blue they were. He wasn’t grey. Neither was the flower he’d brought.

“Thank you,” Charles said again and then leaned forward and kissed him in the space that was just between cheek and mouth. He felt Hank shiver, felt a happy little thrill in his mind and then Hank was blushing and moving back and mumbling something about maybe sorting out their dinner but it was all right because Charles had felt what Hank had felt and it had been good.

For a moment, the world had been just a little bit brighter again and that was better than nothing.

Maybe there was something to hope for after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2017 12dayschristmas.


End file.
